Hunk of Burning Love
by Teobi
Summary: Whilst exploring the foothills of the volcano, Gilligan finds an odd volcanic rock, pulsing and glowing with some secret energy. What powers are contained within? Multi- chapter. Pairings are 1) MAG and 2) Pinger [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

After three years on the island, Gilligan pretty much knew the topography like the back of his hand. His first forays into the jungle had been fraught with tension and the anticipation of danger, but he soon came to learn that the only things they needed to worry about were head hunters, secret underground ammunition dumps left over from the war, giant spiders, quicksand pits, the very occasional saltwater crocodile (only one in all these years, but one could never be too careful), the odd jungle boy, the unexpected hidden biplane, and of course, the volcano.

Gilligan was schlepping around the foothills of the volcano, looking for collectibles. The landscape around the base of a volcano was always ripe with treasures. The Professor had explained to him about all the different types of volcanic rock, but as soon as the language turned into Science (and even worse, _Latin_), Gilligan switched off. He did remember that there was something called magma which turned into lava, and for some reason he couldn't get the term 'igneous dykes' out of his head. But as the sun made its way across the sky and the birds sang and the breeze cooled the back of his neck, Gilligan was content just to mooch around looking for interesting new rocks.

It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a very interesting looking rock indeed. It glowed as if it had been expelled from the volcano just that morning- but as the angry mountain hadn't erupted since the Professor bombed it into submission, there was no way this rock ought to be glowing. Gilligan's interest was well and truly piqued, and when that happened, he tended to follow his curiosity without a second thought.

He bent down and picked up the rock.

He was surprised to find that although it glowed, it wasn't so hot that it burned his skin off. It was just comfortably warm, like a baked potato at just the right temperature for eating. In fact, it even resembled a baked potato somewhat, until an experimental nibble told him that it was definitely a rock. He pulled a face and cradled the rock in both hands, gazing into its beautiful reddish, yellowish, orangeish, greenish, blueish, magenta-ish, heliotrope-ish core. And as he did so, a feeling of pure warmth and joy seeped through his palms and into his bloodstream, travelling all the way around his body, eventually ending up in his heart.

Gilligan suddenly felt like the happiest man on the planet.

He knew he had to share this piece of treasure with Mary Ann.

He just knew.

Clutching the warm, glowing rock tightly in both hands, William Gilligan, First Mate of the SS Minnow, bounded through the jungle towards the huts, a broad grin on his face, thinking only of Mary Ann and how she would react when she saw what he had brought her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! Now, I just need to say something here.

I've fallen behind in my reading and reviewing of others' stories and my PMs to reviewers to say thanks. I feel bad, because R&R'ing is so much fun. I want to catch up with all the stories I've missed, and I also want to write so many more of my own. If you don't mind shorter reviews from me for a while as I catch up, that would be great!

Doll Girl, K9grming Twihard, Cloudy Gumdrops, Miss Bridget Sharpe, Minch, Mrs. Denver-Doohan, ChocolateChipCookie26, TereseLucy384 (where's your Muse gone, missy?!) JWood201 (my MAG buddy), and y'all who have yet to write a fic, waldengarver and ceschwartz and Cristy (you have it in you!) and Tim66 (more from you please Mister!) and all y'all, which I believe is the plural of y'all.

Bob Denver shipped MAG so hard. I love him. It was his Angel Day on September 2nd. **I ship MAG in memory of Bob Denver and Sherwood Schwartz**. Anything else would be a crime.

oOoOo

**Chapter Two**

Gilligan ran into the clearing, clutching tightly to his beautiful new rock. He screeched to a halt when he saw the Professor sorting through some science paraphernalia on the bamboo table. Quickly he stuffed the rock under his shirt and strolled casually across the sand, holding the rock beneath his shirt to stop it from slipping out.

The Professor looked up, smiled a greeting, and then frowned curiously. "Gilligan, are you all right?" he asked, his sky blue eyes going straight to Gilligan's midriff.

Gilligan returned the Professor's smile with a dazzling one of his own. He nodded. "Yep, never felt better," he drawled, wondering why his voice sounded so laid back and lazy all of a sudden.

The Professor pursed his lips. "Then why are you holding your side?"

"Oh, no reason. Just felt like it," Gilligan grinned.

The Professor shook his head slowly. "That's where your appendix is located," he told the dreamy eyed boy. "Gilligan, appendicitis can be fatal. If you're feeling any pain there, you'd better tell me."

"No pain, Professor. Really, I'm fine."

But the man of science seemed unconvinced. "You don't look yourself, Gilligan. You look a little delirious. I don't think you're telling me the whole story." With that, the Professor lunged forward and wrestled Gilligan's arm away from his side. Gilligan didn't put up much of a struggle and soon there was a soft thump as the glowing rock fell out of his shirt and landed in the sand at their feet, midway between them both.

"What's this?" asked the Professor, that familiar tone of fascination creeping into his voice as he bent down and picked up the rock.

Gilligan smiled even more widely as he watched the Professor turn the glowing rock around and around in his hands. "I found it, over by the volcano. Isn't it a beauty?"

"It certainly is," the Professor agreed. His eyes lit up as the rock pulsed and glowed and changed colours, from pinks to purples to yellows to reds to greens to turquoise to vermilion to emerald. His expression turned almost as dreamy and spaced out as Gilligan's.

"Fascinating," he murmured. "You say you found it by the volcano?"

"Yeah," said Gilligan. "Do you know what it might be? Besides magical, I mean."

"Gilligan, there is no such thing as magic. I must admit though, in all my months of studying the volcano, I have never come across a specimen quite like this."

"Yeah, and _I_ found it," Gilligan said again, proudly tapping his own chest with his thumb.

"Gilligan, would you mind if I borrowed this rock to give t... I mean, to study it for a little while?"

Gilligan shook his head and reached for the rock. "Nothin' doin', Prof. I'm giving it to Mary Ann. Skipper made her get rid of the last gift I gave her. No one's gonna take_ this_ one away."

"Oh yes, the voodoo pin. She told me _alllll_ about that little incident after I returned from my state of unconsciousness."

"Your state of being a zombie," Gilligan corrected.

"No, Gilligan, let's not have that argument again."

"Whatever you say, daddio."

The Professor looked up at Gilligan but decided to let that one go. "Mary Ann still hasn't forgiven the Skipper for that. All right, Gilligan, I'll let you have it back. Perhaps I'll take a trip over to the volcano and see if I can find one for myself."

But as the Professor handed Gilligan the rock, it broke in half. He looked at Gilligan, aghast. "Gilligan! I didn't mean to break it!"

Gilligan held the half of the rock that was in his possession close to his face and examined it. "Weird. It doesn't look broken at all."

The Professor gazed down at his own half while Gilligan gazed at his. Both specimens looked as smooth and perfect as the original rock had looked before it broke.

"Maybe you were meant to have it," said Gilligan.

"You mean, you're not angry?"

Gilligan laughed. "Why would I be angry? We had one beautiful rock, and now we have two!"

The Professor's face split into a huge grin. It wasn't often that he grinned this widely and it felt good. He curled his fingers around his half of the rock and thumped Gilligan soundly on the back. "Gilligan, you are a gentleman and a scholar. Thank you for your kind generosity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans for this delightful object. _Big_ plans!"

Gilligan chuckled at the Professor's enthusiasm. "Good luck, Prof. Hope you find out what it is!"

"Whatever it is," the Professor called back over his shoulder as he hurried away, "it's absolutely, positively _beautiful_!"

Gilligan held his half of the rock in front of his face and gazed lovingly into its swirling, multi-coloured depths. "You're right about that," he murmured, and carried on his way to find Mary Ann.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay, everyone who usually reviews me knows that I usually reply with a personal PM. Unfortunately my brain is up my backside at the moment. Some Real Life stuff, just some general confusion. A backlog of things I can't seem to clear. So please bear with me. I appreciate all reviews and count myself lucky for every single one. I love suggestions and opinions. I hope people aren't expecting this to be a winding, twisting tale of monsters, aliens and beatniks. It won't be. It's just something to take my mind off of reality and is just going to be fluffy fluff with extra fluff on top, whipped up into more fluff with little peaks of fluff until you've got fluff coming out of your goddamned ears. Get used to it :)

oOoOo

**Chapter Three**

Mary Ann hummed a merry tune to herself as she went about the hut, dusting knick knacks. She and Ginger had built up quite a collection of fab accessories over the years, turning their hut into a beautiful haven of girly things. Pretty seashells, decorative fan corals, wind chimes made from cute shells and smooth, rounded pebbles. Gourds of all different colours acted as vases for bouquets of fresh picked tropical flowers that not only looked wonderful, but filled the hut with delightfully heady scents. The Professor had given them a couple of potted ferns and Gilligan had given them anything he could find on the shoreline that he thought they would appreciate. He would often turn up with a sliver of brown or green glass, and occasionally a piece of blue glass which he said was the Holy Grail of pieces of broken glass to be found in the sea. People were always throwing beer bottles into the sea, he told her, and they were almost always brown or green. But blue glass was very rare, like pirate treasure. Mary Ann loved to listen to Gilligan babble on with excitement when he brought her his little gifts. He always said they were for the hut, but Mary Ann liked to think that really, they were for her, just as Ginger liked to think the potted ferns were hers.

Mary Ann thought about Gilligan a lot. From the time that Mrs. Howell tried to pair them up, to the time he had given her that beautiful gold pin that Skipper made her give back because of voodoo. Why did voodoo have to spoil everything on this island? Every time something unexpected or unexplained happened. Voodoo. Every time. Even when it clearly wasn't voodoo. The Skipper just had voodoo on the brain. And there were other times when Skipper would almost literally get between her and Gilligan. That time when Gilligan had tried to save her from drowning, the Skipper had flown down the beach as if he had been tailing Gilligan all along. Everyone had made a big thing about Skipper being a hero, but Gilligan had once saved the Skipper's life, and everyone seemed to forget that.

Gilligan had worked on his lifesaving skills and by the time Kalani had shown up, he was perfectly capable of hauling a beautiful young woman to safety. Mary Ann just wished it could have been _her. _

Gilligan was surely an enigma. He had told her that if he was to spend a whole morning picking flowers for someone, it would be someone as sweet as her. But he _had_ spent a whole morning picking flowers for her- the most beautiful ones he could find. It's just that Mrs. Howell had asked him to. He was happy to think that Ginger had a crush on him. And he was happy when they all told him that his swollen nose made him handsome. Gilligan did like her, she knew he did. But he was afraid of the _reality_ of it. If he kept it in his head then nobody could hurt him. She often caught him looking at her, and wondered if he dreamed about going on a date with her, or kissing her, but was just too afraid to make it real.

Mary Ann and Ginger had had plenty of late night discussions about the three eligible bachelors they were stranded with. They both agreed that if either Gilligan or the Professor had the Skipper's knowledge of women then they wouldn't be the lovable geeks that they were. But they also agreed that it was infuriating to walk past the Professor in a slinky gown and have him barely look up from A World of Facts, or to smile sweetly at Gilligan and have him simply ask what was for lunch.

The Professor and Gilligan were both good looking and adorable, but there was something in both of their psyches that was keeping them away from women, and both of the girls were worried that the longer they were stranded together, the more Gilligan and the Professor would begin to look upon them as sisters rather than soulmates.

With these thoughts swirling around in her head, the tune Mary Ann was humming became slightly mournful. That is, until the hut door swung open and made her stop in mid-hum, turning to see who was there.

Gilligan stood on the threshold, gazing at her with an expression of total dreaminess. She stared back for a couple of uncertain moments before hesitantly greeting him.

"Gilligan? Are you all right? You look..." _stoned,_ was what she wanted to say, but she didn't.

"I sure am," he grinned. "Mind if I come in?"

"Go ahead," she smiled back, feeling an unexpected flutter in her heart as he loped through the doorway.

"I brought you something," he drawled, lazily.

"Oh, Gilligan, you shouldn't have! Is it something for the hut?" she asked, expectantly, trying to see what he was hiding behind his back.

"Nope, this time it's something for you." Gilligan came right up to her and brought his hand out slowly, cupping the glowing rock gently in his palm.

Mary Ann gasped. Her eyes became riveted to the stone, lost in its swirling depths. Its colours seemed magical, transfixing her, lifting her mood almost instantly. "Why, Gilligan!" she gasped. "This is the most beautiful stone I've ever seen!"

"Ain't it?" he grinned. "I found it over by the volcano. It was bigger than this, but when I showed it to the Professor, a piece broke away like it was meant for him. Isn't that crazy?"

Mary Ann bit her lip. She wanted to hold the rock in her own hands. "May I?" she asked, hopefully.

"Sure thing," Gilligan chuckled, rolling the smooth, pulsating stone into Mary Ann's waiting hands.

Mary Ann found herself being pulled into the centre of the stone, as if it were beckoning to her. "I've never seen so many colours, have you? It's like a million sunrises and a million sunsets, and a million starry skies."

"I know," her friend smiled. "I never thought there were so many different kinds of reds, greens, purples, blues, oranges... you name it, it's in there. It's in there even if you _can't_ name it!"

"I can't believe something like this even exists. It's... it's like something out of a fairytale legend. People of old spent their entire lives searching for treasures like this."

The rock began to pulse gently, like a heartbeat, its depths turning crimson red. The deep red made Mary Ann's face glow pink. She stared deeply into the rock, and then slowly her eyes raised up and latched onto Gilligan's.

Gilligan looked back at her just as intently. The rock pulsed and their faces glowed pink, red, pink, red. After a while it seemed that they existed in a little bubble of their own, their surroundings turning into a faint mist around them, there but not there, existing only to keep them supported in time and space.

"Mary Ann," said Gilligan, softly, his voice more clear and confident than he'd ever heard it before, "Mary Ann, I love you."

Mary Ann gasped. Her heart lurched and she bit back a tiny sob. "Gilligan, please don't say things you don't mean," she whispered, scared that he was going to break her heart into a million pieces.

"I never say things I don't mean," Gilligan replied. "You should know that by now." There was an intensity in his blue/green eyes that she had only seen once before, very briefly, after she had kissed him to make him feel young again. Before he had made that silly joke about his arteries. It was a look that she had often thought about, dreamed about, and longed to see on his face again.

And there it was, at last. He loved her.

Mary Ann threw her arms around Gilligan's neck and pressed herself against him. She felt his arms wrap around her without hesitation and hold her tight. She heard the little noise he made in the back of his throat. She couldn't believe that a normal, slightly mundane day had suddenly turned into _this._ She clung to Gilligan as though her life depended on it. "I love you too, Gilligan," she said, her voice cracking. "I've always loved you, right from day one. You're the brightest, sunniest boy I've ever met. You took my hand as I boarded the Minnow and from that moment on, I was lost."

"And now you really _are_ lost," Gilligan joked.

Mary Ann loosened her grip and stood back to look up into his face. "Maybe I was lost before, but I'm not lost now. I love you too, Gilligan. I love you, too."

Gilligan brought his smiling face down to hers and they kissed. Not a shy, scared kiss. Not a kiss to test the waters, but a kiss that some people spend their whole lives waiting for. After it was over, Mary Ann unwrapped her arms from around Gilligan's neck and they both gazed down at the rock, their faces flushed with joy and their hearts racing. They both noticed that the rock's own pulsing had speeded up in time with their heartbeats.

"I think it knows," Mary Ann whispered, her lips still tingling from Gilligan's kiss.

"I think so, too," said Gilligan, reverently.

Mary Ann passed the rock to Gilligan, and as she did so, it gently broke in half.

"Just like it did with the Professor," Gilligan murmured. "And look- you can't even see where it split."

"Maybe we're all meant to have a piece," said Mary Ann, lifting her portion up to her eyes.

"Maybe it's a rock that makes people fall in love!" said Gilligan, suddenly.

Mary Ann's rock winked and twinkled, the deep crimson red replaced with a myriad of pastel blues, pinks and lilacs.

"Except I was already in love," she confessed.

"Me too," he admitted. "I saw you standing on the dock all by yourself, and I thought, 'boy, is she the prettiest girl I ever saw.' I couldn't understand why you weren't with anyone."

Mary Ann closed her fingers around the rock and shut her eyes briefly, feeling the rock's warmth seep up her arm and into her heart. "I thought I was always going to be alone," she said, quietly.

Gilligan took her into his arms and held her while she caressed the stone and laid her head against his chest.

"Not any more, Mary Ann. You're not going to be alone any more. And neither am I."

They kissed again, each holding tightly to their small pieces of rock while unseen colours pulsed wildly in their hands, keeping time with their hearts, their ragged breathing, the chemicals and endorphins in their brains that made them fall deeper and deeper in love with every second that passed. The two rocks even beat as one, as though they were still joined- a bond that would never be broken, even when apart.


	4. Chapter 4

Oodles of Pinger fluff for Pinger lovers everywhere :)

oOoOo

**Chapter Four**

Ginger was beside the lagoon. And Roy Hinkley, , B.A., B.S., M.A., Ph.D , otherwise known as The Professor, was beside himself.

From his position at the edge of the jungle, almost at the end of the path that led from the huts to the beach (but not quite- perhaps three and a half feet back from the line where scrub became sand), the Professor cradled his half of the rock tenderly in both hands, allowing its warmth to suffuse his skin, sending goosebumps and tingles all the way up his arms. He could not tear his cerulean eyes away from the girl who had been his island companion since the day they shared a seat on board the SS Minnow. He remembered with startling clarity the moment she had sat down next to him on the thinly padded strip of wood that the Skipper grandly called 'the Observation Deck Seating Area', casting welcome shade across the blinding white pages of 'History of the South Sea Islands'.

"Reading on a day like this?" she had said, with more than a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Re..." he had begun, before lifting his eyes from the page and being stunned into silence by her beauty.

"Re?" she asked, with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"...search," he finished, then exploded into a coughing fit, clapping his hand over his mouth as she thumped his back to clear his chest. "I'm sorry," he spluttered, reaching for his handkerchief. "I don't know what came over me."

She had giggled then, but said nothing. She merely rested her elbows on the gunwale and looked out to sea as the Minnow chugged towards open water.

Roy put down his book and tried to look past the red waves of her hair at the blue waves of the ocean, failing miserably in his endeavours to keep his breathing calm and steady. Gilligan and Skipper shouted to each other over the rhythmic chunking of the engine, the heart and soul of the little boat combined. The Howells chattered back and forth, Mr. Howell already hankering after a lunchtime cocktail. Their other passenger, the very young looking (and surprisingly un-chaperoned) Mary Ann Summers, shielded her eyes against the bright white sun to gaze up at the sky and the clouds and once or twice (in passing of course) at the gangly First Mate. A fresh sea breeze lifted the hair away from Ginger's neck like a lover's caress before placing its lips against her throat, making her ripple with delight, while Roy watched with bated breath, wishing his own lips were against that pale expanse of milk white skin. He found himself wondering what a woman such as she was doing on a cheerful but hardly high class vessel like this. He found himself inwardly cheering that they had both chosen the same day to take a three hour tour.

From that moment on, even before the weather started getting rough, Roy Hinkley was a drowning man.

Now he was watching her again, observing the way she sat on the rock, mermaid style. How she tipped her head this way and that as she combed her beautiful hair with the seashell comb he had made especially for her. Her hair had grown very long, and she now wore it with soft bangs over her forehead, and he had to admit he loved it that way. She looked younger, more carefree, more relaxed somehow. She was no longer spending half of the day forcing it into great big curlers and walking around the island like she'd just stepped out of some Hollywood stylist on Sunset Boulevard. She had become so much more natural, taking the day as it came. Of course, she would never let her beauty regime slide completely, but she was no longer quite so regimental about it, and he was so happy to see the way she smiled sometimes, as if she'd finally discovered her own _natural_ beauty.

He found himself squeezing the rock tightly as Ginger flipped her hair over and began to comb it through from underneath, completely oblivious to his presence. The length of her neck exposed itself to his appreciative gaze, making his pulse race like the winner of the Kentucky Derby.

"How do I love thee, let me count the ways," he murmured, as the rock beat like a heart within his hands. Then he chuckled, lifting the rock to stare into its mysterious, pulsing centre. "Too many ways to count," he smiled, as though sharing his secret with the little multi coloured stone.

Ginger flipped her glossy mane back up and over just as the Professor strolled down the beach to join her at the rock.

"Good afternoon, my darling," he said, smoothly.

Ginger blinked and turned towards him. Surprise flitted across her face before she took in his casual stride and his smiling face and then her shoulders dropped and she relaxed.

"'My darling'?" she echoed. "Goodness! Is it time for your Acting Class already, Professor?"

The Professor shook his head, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "I wasn't acting. You look divinely beautiful today, Ginger. Your hair catches the sun like a million fire sprites dancing. Your skin is as smooth as a river of vanilla ice cream. That angelic little mole on your cheek..." he reached out and touched it with the tip of his finger, "... just cries out to be kissed." Before the startled (but delighted) Ginger could stop him, the Professor leaned down and pressed the gentlest little kiss against Ginger's beauty mark.

"Pro-_fessor_!" she breathed, huskily. "Please don't think I'm in _any_ way complaining, but what's come over you? You're behaving _very_ strangely!"

"It's taken me too long to admit my feelings for you, Ginger. But I can no longer deny that which my heart so dearly desires. Every morning when I wake up to find myself still stranded on this wretched island, the one thing that keeps me smiling is the thought of seeing you at the breakfast table. Your exquisite beauty, your elegance, your natural poise and charm- all of these things bring joy to my lonely heart." After his little speech was over, the Professor opened his palm and showed Ginger the sparkling, twinkling, mysterious rock, smiling at her as if he'd just brought her an entire kingdom to call her own.

Ginger drew in a gasp as the rock shimmered before her. She found her gaze completely transfixed by its undulating centre. Blues and greens and turquoise melted into pinks and mauves and violet. The space within the rock seemed infinite, endless, and full of possibilities. It pulsed steadily, like her own heartbeat. It felt like something she'd known of all her life, but without knowing of it at all. Something primeval and connected to everything in existence- the entire universe contained in one small stone that nestled in the hand of the man she'd loved since the first moment they'd met.

"I love you, Ginger," the Professor said, quietly.

Ginger's eyes filled up and she hastily blinked back the tears which threatened to spill down her cheeks. She looked up into blue eyes that had never looked so open and honest, his entire soul laid bare. She was in no doubt that he was telling the truth, no doubt at all. She felt suddenly light as a feather, as if all of her cares had been taken away, lifted up by the breeze and blown out across the ocean until they dissipated into nothing.

"I love you too, Professor," she confessed. "I've always loved you. You're the most perfect man I've ever met."

The Professor rested one knee on the rock and leaned down to kiss Ginger's waiting lips. He slipped one arm around her waist, she wrapped one arm around his neck and with his other hand he took hold of hers with the glowing rock held tight between both of their palms. They laced their fingers together and held onto the warm, pulsing stone and their kiss deepened until all they knew was each other. Until Time and Space grew thin as a protective membrane that held the lovers in its own gentle and loving embrace.

At length their passionate kiss ended, despite the fact they both wanted it to last forever. The Professor drew his face away from Ginger's, but only slightly. His eyes were heavy, his mouth still slightly open. Ginger's emerald eyes were open and wet and shining. As they gazed into each other's eyes they both felt something move between their palms.

Ginger tore her gaze away from the Professor's and looked at their joined hands. She bit the inside of her lip as the Professor untangled his fingers from Ginger's. Slowly, carefully, they opened up their hands.

Ginger gasped. The glowing rock was now two glowing rocks. Two perfectly rounded specimens, glowing and pulsing in sync as if they were still one.

"Why, this is exactly what happened with Gilligan!" exclaimed the Professor, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline.

Ginger's eyes widened. "Gilligan? What does any of this have to do with _Gilligan_?"

"Gilligan is the one who found this rock in the first place! Well, that is, he found one big rock, over by the volcano. When he showed it to me it split in two, and I kept one half and Gilligan said that he was going to give the other half to Mary Ann! I wonder if the same thing happened to them?" The Professor was aware that he was babbling, but he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

Ginger stared at her portion of the rock, and then back at Roy. "If this rock's had the same effect on Gilligan as it's had on you, then maybe he's finally plucked up the courage to tell Mary Ann he loves her!"

The Professor almost laughed out loud. "Judging by the look on his face when he left me, I'd say that was clearly his intention!"

Ginger held the rock up to her face and gazed at its bright, swirling colours. "Do you think it's got magic powers?"

"Ginger, I don't know what to think! And do you know what's so extraordinary about that?"

Ginger met his delighted gaze and couldn't help laughing along with him, his joy was so infectious. "What's so extraordinary about that, Science Man?"

Roy threw his arms wide and shouted up into the sky. "I don't care! I simply _don't care_! All I know is that I love you! I love you, Miss Ginger Grant! I love you!"

And before Ginger had the chance to say another word, Roy Hinkley, B.A., B.S., M.A., Ph.D, otherwise known as The Professor, swept her into another kiss, a kiss that was even more passionate than the first.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey you! Yes, you! You are the most awesome reader/reviewer ever. **Thank you** for your support and friendship and for being a fan of GI and supporting Sherwood's original ships, MAG and Pinger. And thank you for reading my humble stories and being kind enough to leave your splendid reviews and observations. ilysm!

oOoOo

**Chapter Five**

_The earth has music for those who listen_ - George Santayana

The outdoor hammock rocked gently side to side while the combined efforts of the sea breeze, the salty air and the warm caresses of the late afternoon sun peeping through the leaves enveloped Mary Ann and Gilligan in a bubble of happiness all of their own. Gilligan lay on his back, taking up most of the hammock, and Mary Ann on her side with one arm across his torso and one foot hooked gently between his ankles. They were both fully clothed, of course. Just because they were firmly and finally a couple, a _romantic_ couple, didn't mean they weren't still a little bit shy, a little bit discreet, a little bit wary of anyone chancing upon their little love nest in the middle of the jungle.

On Gilligan's abdomen rested a large wooden bowl full of delicious, plump fruits. As they talked in low whispers, murmured sweet nothings, billed and cooed like little pigeons and kissed each other softly on lips, nose and cheeks, they delved into the bowl and brought out grapes and wild berries and sweet chunks of mango with which they fed each other. Occasionally their fingers would tangle and they would laugh and blush and Gilligan would squeeze Mary Ann's hand and the hammock would rock with the laughter. More than once, Gilligan took a grape between his lips and transferred it to Mary Ann's mouth while kissing her at the same time. These were the times that the hammock nearly tipped over, such were the fires that exploded into life while these kisses intensified.

Between kisses and cuddles and the consumption of fruit, Gilligan and Mary Ann extracted their stones from their pockets and gazed with fervent admiration into the endlessly swirling colours. The stones seemed alive, but not alive like a human being or an animal or any other type of known creature. They seemed truly _alive._ Alive with intelligence, with all the knowledge of the universe. Gilligan debated whether they were eggs. Dinosaur eggs. Alien's eggs. Where had the original rock come from? Did the volcano spit it out, and if so, why weren't there more of them?

Mary Ann didn't know, either. The only thing she was certain of was that the stones posed no danger. They weren't toxic, they weren't hiding any terrible secrets. They weren't lulling anyone into a false sense of security. They were just what they were- beautiful, mysterious stones that somehow brought out hidden feelings of love between people who already loved each other.

"Otherwise you would have fallen in love with the Professor," she smiled. "And you didn't."

Gilligan grinned around a grape and chuckled naughtily. "Who says I didn't?" he teased. "He's a pretty goodlooking guy!"

"_Gilligan_!" laughed Mary Ann, kicking his ankles playfully. "Then all I have to say is, thank goodness you loved me more!"

"More than you'll ever know," Gilligan said, honestly.

And they kissed again, deeply and passionately, sighing into each other's mouths while the stones pulsed in their hands, moving with barely contained ardour against each other until the wooden bowl of fruit finally tipped off of Gilligan's stomach, sending grapes and berries and chunks of mango tumbling to the ground.

oOoOo

_The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing._ - Socrates

"Here's a fact for you," said Ginger, as she strolled hand in hand along the shoreline with the Professor. "More germs are transferred shaking hands than kissing."

The Professor raised his eyebrows and gave her a 'where did you learn that?' kind of look.

"You think I was taken in by that line about bacterial transfer?" she laughed. "I knew all along you were too nervous to kiss me because it would have given your feelings away. Mr. Logical always has to keep a cool head. Can't be seen to become overtaken with passion about anything unless there's absolutely no danger of it loving you back."

The Professor dropped his eyes to his feet. At Ginger's insistence he had removed his shoes and socks and the two of them were barefoot, he with his khaki pants rolled up to mid-calf and she with the hem of her gown gathered up out of the water in the hand that wasn't linked with his. Waves lapped over his bare toes and he actually found himself enjoying this lack of formality, this new found ability to just 'go with the flow'. He realised that he didn't always have to be the one in charge. He didn't always have to be the serious one, the logical one, the one with all the answers. He didn't have to be anyone's self appointed leader. He didn't have to take responsibility for anyone if he didn't want to. The realisation that he was free to say "no" was frightening, intoxicating and liberating, all at the same time. It made the blood rush from his head. It made him want to do back flips all the way down the beach like a circus acrobat.

"Tell me something else I don't know," he said, sheepishly.

Ginger swung his arm as they walked along. "The tides are caused by the Moon."

"I said, something I _don't_ know, Ginger."

"Ah, but you didn't know that _I_ knew that."

My goodness, she got me again, he thought, happily.

A short amount of time passed in comfortable silence as they walked along, their bodies almost touching. Ginger pulled the hair away from her face and the Professor narrowed his eyes against the lowering sun and they both admired the changing colours of the sky until Ginger asked him if he had the stones.

"Right here," he answered, fishing them out of his pocket.

Ginger took her stone and the Professor took his and they watched the stones glow and shimmer just like tiny skies.

"The colours are almost unbearable," whispered Ginger. "They're like nothing I've ever seen!"

The Professor glanced from the real sky to the sky inside the stone and found himself agreeing with her. "The stones appear to have an uncanny ability to mirror what's around them," he stated.

"Mirror?" asked Ginger, "or control?"

The Professor contemplated what Ginger had said. "If not control then certainly influence," he decided. "After all, the rock didn't _make_ me love you. It just made it easier for me to accept my feelings and not try to fight them or pretend they didn't exist."

"Like little helpers," Ginger smiled, transfixed by the twinkling lights within her portion of the stone. "Friendly little helpers that want only the best for their owners."

"In a way, I suppose so," said the Professor. "Although of course it defies all rational explanation to suggest that a piece of coloured stone _wants_ us to fall in love."

"And yet, physical evidence suggests..." prompted Ginger.

"Physical evidence does indeed suggest," he smiled, catching her eye.

Ginger slipped her stone back into his pocket and pulled him gently into a loving embrace. "Let me show you some more physical evidence," she purred.

"You can never have too much physical evidence," he agreed.

And then they kissed. Fully and wantonly and passionately, while little waves rushed over their feet and the shush-shush-shush of the endlessly rolling ocean gave them a round of applause. Midway through the kiss the Professor pulled Ginger down onto the sand and they rolled over and over in the surf like a scene from a movie, something which delighted Ginger so much that she began to laugh out loud as he tumbled her over onto her back, covering her in wet sand.

"Don't lose the stones!" she managed to say before he dragged the wet, tangled hair out of her mouth and kissed her again. In the midst of the kiss he pulled the stones out of his pocket and tossed them up the beach where they nestled into a little trough, glowing brightly together, as if they too were laughing at the chaotic nature of life, at the sheer, unbridled joy emanating from Ginger and the Professor, waiting patiently for the lovers to return.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Love can turn the stubbornest of heads, can melt the iciest of hearts, but one thing love cannot do is stop time. As the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, one occupant of the outdoor hammock began to stir and become vaguely restless.

"Everyone will be wondering where we are," Mary Ann murmured, her face nuzzled into the creases of Gilligan's rumpled red rugby shirt, stretched tightly across his chest.

"Let 'em," mumbled Gilligan, in a voice that suggested he was teetering on the very edge of sleep.

Mary Ann giggled. "I can't," she said, tightening one arm around her mate's torso. "They'll need feeding soon."

"They can feed themselves," Gilligan said, more firmly this time. "They're not babies. They know where the storeroom is."

"But what about you? Aren't you getting hungry?"

Gilligan showed his teeth in a slightly feral way that made Mary Ann shiver with excitement. "Sure, but not for food," he said, returning her squeeze.

Mary Ann pulled the brim of his hat down over his face. "Naughty boy," she chastised, gently.

Gilligan's response to that was to tickle Mary Ann until she squealed out loud. She clamped her hand over her mouth so that no one would hear. She blinked at him with her big brown eyes full of joy and the secrets they now shared. He could tell she was trying not to laugh as he gently prised her hand away from her mouth.

"I've got a better way to shut you up," he said, snuggling closer to her.

"I'll bet you have, you wicked man," she whispered, shuddering with delight as their mouths met in another passionate kiss that threatened to set both them and the hammock on fire, not to mention the trees the hammock was tied to, and the ground the trees grew out of.

"I've never been so happy to be called naughty, wicked and bad," Gilligan confessed after the kiss was over. "But you know I would never do anything to hurt you, Mary Ann. You do know that, don't you?"

The look on his face almost broke Mary Ann's heart.

"Of course I do, Gilligan. I'm only teasing you when I say those things. It means you give me feelings I've never felt before, not even with previous boyfriends." She noted the flash of ... jealousy? that made his eyes burn bright for just a microsecond before she finished speaking. "Not that I've had many of those- I only dated one or two boys in High School." She stroked Gilligan's face with the tips of her fingers, tracing the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. "I thought I would live and die in Kansas. I thought I would end up settling for an ordinary farmer's son and we'd grow old together on an ordinary wheat farm just like my parents and my aunt and uncle and everyone before them. How wrong I was."

"I'm sorry I messed up your future," Gilligan said, his eyes darkening as the sun slipped lower and lower.

"It would have been a very predictable future," Mary Ann smiled, a little wistfully. "And I would never have met you."

They shared another kiss, and in the middle of it, Gilligan's stomach growled. Mary Ann burst into giggles, which brought the smooch to an abrupt end.

"I thought you weren't hungry?"

Gilligan looked down at his stomach. "Traitor," he told it.

Mary Ann patted the offending part of his anatomy, enjoying how flat and tight it felt beneath her hand. "Come on, sailor man," she laughed. "We'd better be heading back. Mr. and Mrs. Howell will be getting ready for dinner and the Skipper will start to think there's been a mutiny."

Gilligan rolled deftly (albeit reluctantly) out of the hammock and helped the struggling Mary Ann as she tried to do the same.

"I will never understand how you get in and out of these things so easily," she murmured as she ended up with one foot on the ground and the other still tangled in the hammock.

"I know everything there is to know about hammocks," Gilligan winked. "And one day, you will too."

Finally Mary Ann was out of the hammock, slightly red faced with the effort. Gilligan brushed the hair out of her eyes and gently kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, nose and lastly her mouth. He removed his hat and put it on her head, tugging the brim down so that it wouldn't fall off.

"There. Now you can be_ my_ First Mate." He chucked her under the chin, then he took the stones out of his pocket and held them up to the beginnings of the sunset. The stones caught the golden rays filtering through the trees and sent a kaleidoscope of colours whirling and dancing, colours that were reflected in Gilligan's and Mary Ann's eyes. They stood in silent admiration for another few moments, anxious to lengthen the time they spent together. Then they set off towards the huts, their hands clasped with the two stones held in between their palms, feeling the warm pulsing of the strange minerals against their skin.

As they reached the perimeter of the huts and prepared to go their separate ways, Gilligan pulled Mary Ann into a warm and loving embrace.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," he murmured against his own hat, which she was still wearing.

"We still have the stones to remind us of each other," Mary Ann replied quietly, immersing herself in his scent and the warmth of his body against hers.

But when they opened their hands to look at the stones, they saw with amazement that somehow, while they were walking and without them knowing or feeling anything, the two stones had rejoined and become one.

Gilligan stared at the shimmering stone and then at Mary Ann. "What do you think it means?" he gulped.

Mary Ann gently touched the stone, which set off a swirl of beautiful colours that no artist would ever be able to match. "I think it means its job is done," she smiled. "It broke apart so that we could come together, and now that we're together, it's come back together too. Does that make sense?"

"It does to me," Gilligan grinned, relieved.

"If the rock stays together then so will we," Mary Ann continued. "That's how I see it, anyway."

Gilligan's eyes softened as he watched the expressions of hope flit across Mary Ann's face. "You always did say the right things," he smiled.

Mary Ann leaned up and placed a soft kiss on Gilligan's lips. "Think of the rock as a symbol of our love, and everything will be all right."

"Okay," Gilligan agreed. "But you'd better take care of it, Mary Ann, 'cause you know what I'm like. I'll lose it in the sand or something." He opened his palm and offered her the stone.

Mary Ann took possession of the glowing stone, gazing lovingly into its depths. "I don't think we'll ever be able to lose this," she said, admiringly. "I think it knows exactly what it's doing, and has done right from the very start."

"I'm pretty sure it's an alien's egg," Gilligan said, mesmerised by the combination of colours at the very core of the rock, colours that he'd never even seen before.

"It's not an alien's egg," Mary Ann giggled. "But even if it was, I think there must be some very friendly and very loving aliens out there, who would do such a wonderful thing for a couple of small, ordinary people like us."

Gilligan hugged and kissed her one last time before they broke apart to go to their own huts. "You will never be ordinary, Mary Ann," he told her with the most serious look on his face.

Mary Ann glowed with pleasure at his words, then patted the sailor's cap that sat atop her head. "Want your hat back, Loverboy?" she teased him.

"Naw, you keep it for a while," Gilligan grinned, rakishly. "I get a kick out of seeing you wearing it."

Mary Ann socked him lightly in the ribs as she turned and walked away, glancing back flirtatiously over her shoulder while tugging on the hat's brim. "What did I tell you?" she laughed. "You're a very naughty boy!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. - _1 Corinthians 13

With a blissful sigh, Ginger rolled over in the foamy surf and propped herself up on the Professor's chest, gazing lovingly down into his sky blue eyes. They were both soaked through and covered in sand, their clothing askew, strands of dark green seaweed threading through their hair. The ocean played with them, gently buffeting them with an endless succession of little waves that splashed up the Professor's pants legs and coursed over Ginger's dress, caressing them with its own tender fingers.

"I must look a mess," Ginger declared, looking down at the Professor through a briny curtain of tangles.

"A beautiful mess," the Professor murmured, gazing longingly at Ginger's succulent lips.

"Oh! So you admit I'm a mess?" she teased, playfully

The Professor's eyes glazed over, as though he'd just seen a vision. "You're like a siren of the sea, come to lure me to my doom."

Ginger dropped a salty kiss onto his waiting mouth. "Mm, that's exactly what I had planned," she whispered.

The Professor boldly ran his hands along Ginger's sensual torso and up onto the inviting swell of her Amazonian hips, pulling her closer to him while they kissed slowly and passionately. The movie star giggled softly against his lips, excited by the feel of his roving fingers.

"Just exactly who is luring who to their doom?" she cooed, wriggling into a better position as laughing waves broke and bubbled all around.

The Professor smiled up at her, his eyes grown heavy with desire. "My darling Ginger, I was yours from the moment we met," he confessed, stunning her with his direct honesty. "If only you knew it!"

Ginger's emerald green eyes widened momentarily as she took in his softly spoken confession. Had he been in love with her all this time, while she secretly yearned for him? As she wondered in awestruck silence about this man who was like no other man she'd ever met, she saw a flash of light in his own blue orbs that burned brighter than the sun, and was a hundred times more capable of burning her.

"The moment we met?" she repeated, quietly.

"Yes, do you remember? You sat down beside me and..."

"Asked you why you were reading on a day like that," Ginger finished, her voice full of barely restrained delight.

"I told you I was doing research, which was partly true. But books have always helped to shield me from the unknown. Such as social situations, and the company of beautiful women."

His face looked so eager to please at that moment, so boyish and hopeful, that Ginger was afraid her heart might actually swell up and burst like an overinflated balloon.

"But as soon as you sat down, all the words became a blur. Words written by stuffy old men with beards from a century and a half ago. I suddenly wondered what I was doing, a relatively young man burying his nose in books, staring at black and white drawings when he could be enjoying bright colours, the joy of laughter, the sounds of life going on around him. Suddenly, it was as though balls of cotton wool had been removed from my ears. I became keenly aware of the Skipper's booming voice and Gilligan stumbling up and down the gangway as he brought passengers aboard. The Howells and all their luggage trooping across the deck and Mary Ann buzzing around like a happy little bee. The ringing of masts all over the marina as we hauled anchor and prepared to set sail. The fresh breeze making my eyes sting with salt. And all of this was because of you, Ginger. All because of you."

Ginger's eyes filled with tears. Salty droplets fell from her lashes and back into the ocean from whence they came, millions of years ago. She ran her fingers over the Professor's smooth, tan chest, traced the contours of his firm jaw, stroked his cheekbones, placed soft, butterfly kisses on his eyelids.

"I was drawn to sit next to you," she said. "I had been trying to get away from the unwanted advances of men, and then I saw you, handsome yet oblivious, hunched over your book in a world of your own- and I wanted nothing more than for you to make an advance. But you didn't- and it drove me almost crazy. I thought it was typical that I would be pursued for the rest of my life by wolves and con artists, and that all the nice, decent men would slip through my fingers- looking for innocent, virginal sweethearts like Mary Ann instead of tarnished, second hand goods like me."

"Oh, Ginger. If only you could see yourself through my eyes," said the Professor. "With your hair all full of seaweed and your makeup all rubbed off. You are more beautiful to me than ever."

Ginger crinkled her nose at him. "That's a wonderful thing to say, Professor, but don't for a minute think that I'm going to ditch the beauty regime and walk around like this for the rest of my life."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he laughed. "The most wonderful thing about you, Ginger, is that you are beautiful inside and out- all of the time, under any circumstance and in any given situation. Who else would attempt to seduce a gorilla or a robot in order to help their friends? You tell me. Who else?"

"Who else would be stupid enough?" Ginger responded, laughing along with him.

The Professor wound his arms around her and kissed her deeply. "I love you, Ginger Grant," he whispered.

"And I love you too, Roy Hinkley," she whispered in return.

"And I want you to call me Roy, instead of 'the Professor."

"Maybe I _like_ calling you 'the Professor'," Ginger chuckled with a wink.

They kissed again, until finally the colours of the sky changed and the chill of dusk descended.

"We ought to go back," Ginger said, regretfully. "What will the Howells think if we're not dressed for dinner?"

"I am quite sure the Howells would understand if I kept you out here all night," the Professor replied, his arms tightening their hold.

"Pro-_fessor!"_ Ginger pretended to be scandalised, but of course she was secretly thrilled by the very suggestion.

"Oh, very well," he sighed, dramatically. "But don't think for a moment that I won't lure you back into my evil web the first moment I get!"

Ginger rolled off him and clambered to her feet in the fizzing surf. She pulled seaweed from her hair and shoulders and tossed it back into the sea, and held out her hand as the Professor struggled up from the horizontal position he'd been in for the past hour or so. She watched him with amusement as he worked a few kinks out of his back.

"I can't think of any better way to get cramp," he joked.

"You poor old man," Ginger replied, teasingly.

"Darling, may I remind you... I've been a solitary bachelor all my adult life. Old habits die hard."

"Well, I fully intend to teach this old dog some new tricks," Ginger smiled, wrapping herself around him like a vine.

After another smouldering kiss, the lovers finally broke away and wandered up the beach.

"The stones!" Ginger exclaimed, suddenly. "One's missing!"

The Professor snapped out of his delicious daydream and cast his eyes about. Where there had been two stones shimmering in a small trough of sand, there now appeared to be just one. He bent and picked it up.

"Do you think someone stole it?" Ginger began searching the sand for the missing gem. "Oh, I bet it was one of Gilligan's monkeys!"

"No, Ginger, wait!" the Professor weighed the stone in his hand and rubbed his sandy forehead thoughtfully. "From the size and weight of this stone, it would appear that the two stones have rejoined and become one again!"

"But- that's impossible," Ginger declared, returning to the Professor's side.

"Is it?" he asked. "After all that's happened, is _anything_ impossible any more?"

They stared at the pulsating rock sitting in the Professor's hand. It looked as though it were laughing at them, winking at them with quickfire changes in colour that dazzled and mystified them.

"What is it?" Ginger murmured. "What strange thing is it?"

The Professor shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea," he said. "I don't think there's anything like this in any book I've ever read. It defies explanation, and yet it exists. It has to exist, because here it is in my hand."

Ginger looked at him. They exchanged a thoughtful glance.

"Just when you think you know everything," the Professor murmured, his inquisitive eyes reflecting the kaleidoscope of colours emanating from the stone.

Ginger felt a twilight breeze on the back of her legs and she shuddered as though someone had walked over her grave. "Come on, Roy, let's head back. If we leave it any longer Mrs. Howell will be scandalized."

The Professor smiled. "I don't blame you for being a little scared," he said. "I am, too."

"I'm not scared," Ginger insisted, sweeping wet and salty hair from her shoulders. "But I am starting to get cold. And hungry."

The Professor raised his eyebrow quizzically. "Before I met you, I was convinced I'd be alone forever. Then we became shipwrecked together. Even then, we kept our distance, save for the odd moment when I either needed you or you needed me. Now we find this strange, almost mystical stone that has finally revealed the love that we felt all along. Ginger, I am prepared to believe in miracles, if you are."

Ginger met his gaze and held it, and the colours that passed between them were as beautiful as those inside the stone. "I believed in miracles when I was a little girl. I believed in them and cherished them, always hoping that one day a miracle would happen to me. But then I grew up and 'put away childish things'. After all, I had to."

"So did I," the Professor said, softly. "So did I."

"Do you believe that a miracle has happened?" she asked, tentatively.

"Yes," he replied, simply. "I do."

The sun sank below the horizon. The pastel smeared clouds began to darken. The Professor pocketed the iridescent stone and threaded his fingers through Ginger's, and together they made their way back to the huts in peaceful and companionable silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The Skipper speared a chunk of avocado and chewed it thoughtfully. The atmosphere at dinner was different tonight; much quieter and certainly less chaotic. Gilligan's usual foghorn yells across the table were now soft whispers shared with Mary Ann, and Ginger's sensual laugh was now a breathy chuckle reserved solely for the Professor. He never thought he'd miss Gilligan's noisy interruptions: _"Pass the salt Mrs. Howell! What? Okay, pass the 'please', Mrs. Howell!"_ and_ "Hey, remember the time the monkey jumped on the table and stole the flower right out of Ginger's hair and then ate it?"_ - but tonight there were three separate and distinct conversations transpiring around the table, and not one of them involved him or required his input in any way whatsoever.

Captain Jonas Grumby ate his meal in silence, contemplating the undeniable fact that there were now three established couples on the island. He glanced away politely as Mary Ann placed a shy kiss on Gilligan's flushed cheek.

_Three couples, and one giant gooseberry._

Gilligan stole an apologetic glance at the Skipper. His mouth tipped up in a bashful smile, and the Skipper smiled back reassuringly. Jonas didn't want to spoil anyone's fun. Far from it, in fact- he was mighty proud of the way Gilligan had grown up and found love, and thrilled beyond measure that he had found that love with Mary Ann, whom he had always thought would be perfect for the bumbling First Mate. But at the same time there was a wrenching sensation deep in his heart- a realization that Gilligan was slowly but surely setting sail on a course of his own, a journey that would take him into uncharted waters, with storms and swells that he would have to navigate alone, without the help of his former Captain.

_Former Captain_. Jonas blinked and shook his head to rid it of the uncomfortable thoughts that were swirling around. _Don't be so melodramatic, you old fool_, he told himself, sternly.

And Ginger? Sure, he'd once had quite a crush on the beautiful, flame haired actress. And who could blame him? As a young man he'd had his own Little Black Book full of phone numbers, with 'a girl in every port', as the old saying went. He had expected Ginger to fall for him the way previous women had, but it soon become apparent that her real interest lay in the Professor, and that her flirtations with the Skipper were just that- flirtations. Flirting came easily to Ginger, she flirted as naturally as she breathed; but when she looked at the Professor, her eyes lit up from within, her skin glowed like the petals of a translucent rose as her deepest feelings filtered to the surface.

There was no mistaking the look of love. The Skipper had seen it enough times on the tear-stained faces of the women he'd left behind as once again his ship raised anchor and sailed away into the sunset. _What goes around comes around_, he thought, smiling around a mouthful of baked clam. And even if he couldn't be Ginger's lover, she was still one of his dearest friends; he could still share a private look with her now and again in the safe knowledge that it would lead nowhere, except to make an old salt very happy for a few hours.

On the other side of the table, Eunice Wentworth 'Lovey' Howell was in her element. Her 'babies' were finally paired up, and what's more, they'd done it all by themselves! Well, with the help of those strange, glowing rocks, which were themselves 'children' of the one rock that Gilligan had found over by the volcano. This rock's mysterious powers had matchmade where Mrs. Howell had failed, bringing the four younger castaways together almost effortlessly. "Aren't they darling?" she cooed to her husband over the rim of her bamboo cup. "Aren't they simply just adorable? Look at Gilligan, I bet the stars are positively jealous of his twinkling eyes. And Mary Ann! It's the first time I've seen her so happy; the poor girl usually looks as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. And Ginger, oh la la! Hollywood's loss is the Professor's gain. She triumphs in her greatest role- that of a starstruck young lover. And our dear Professor, look at him, Thurston. Have you ever seen a man so deliriously in love? I doubt he'll be burying his nose in books for a long while. Why, he looks as if he just discovered the secret of the universe!"

oOoOo

Two miles away, the majestic volcano stood sentinel in the middle of the island, its huge and ancient heart thrumming in rhythm with the silent pulse of the cosmos. It had seen a lot of change over the last three million years or so. It had seen continents torn apart, close friends become strangers, love become hate, and hate become love. It had witnessed these strange two legged beings invade where they hadn't been invited, fighting off any others of their kind who tried to follow suit. It had shuddered with fear as its own kind were forcibly dragged from the nest to be scattered far and wide across the expanse of gleaming ocean, sputtering in vain, bellowing with impotent rage, as helpless against the whims of Mother Nature as a butterfly in a tornado. And it sighed. For where there had once been many, now there were but a few, clustered here and there, spitting hot tears into the sky, roaring with angry desolation, longing for the day when Mother Nature would change her capricious mind and bring them back together.

The volcano had been happy when these seven castaways had arrived on the shores of its lonely little island. They were not savage beings, intent on throwing living creatures into its gaping mouth. They were peaceful beings who mostly kept to themselves, and the ones that ventured further into the jungle did no harm to flora and fauna. Indeed, the one who read books was a friend to the flowers, and the one in the white hat had a kinship with the animals that the volcano had never seen before in all its millions of years. They collected ripened fruit and picked up wood from the ground, they did not trample or destroy. They harvested creatures from the sea, but no more than they needed, never the young nor the pregnant mothers. They put back to the earth what they had taken, and they never let anything go to waste.

The volcano was a benevolent being. It understood why the castaways were frightened on the day it began to erupt. They didn't realize it was a joyful celebration, it was the volcano's way of giving thanks because their presence meant it was no longer lonely. Ever since that day it had made sure not to send hot ash raining from the sky or flames belching from its belly. Instead, it had worked tirelessly to find new ways of saying thank you, of ensuring that they weren't afraid, letting them know how much it wanted them to stay. Once cooled, its ash made the land fertile. The volcano watched with pleasure as they harvested crops it had helped them to grow, and the book reading one would sometimes glance in its direction and smile, as if he_ knew_.

It had taken a while of concentrated compression deep within the volcano's labyrinth of boiling, lava filled veins, but eventually it had succeeded in creating several precious gemstones that would not hurt or frighten these delicate, wonderful beings. These gemstones were infused with millions of years worth of knowledge, with all the power and goodness of the universe and all the colours that existed in every spectrum. These gemstones would unify where Mother Nature had torn asunder. If the volcano was powerless to reunite with its own kind, then at least it could do something for these two legged creatures who kept it company. It could try to bring happiness to the book reader and the one in the white hat, those funny adventurers who tickled its foothills as they climbed and explored.

The ancient, fire breathing monolith would do its best to ensure that the castaways never suffered millions of years of isolation and loneliness the way it had been made to suffer; and by creating happiness for others, it could perhaps find a little happiness of its own.

oOoOo

"I'm sorry we didn't talk much to you at dinner, Skipper."

The voice that floated down from the top hammock was genuinely apologetic. Skipper listened to the gentle creaking of wood and rope in the darkness and sighed again, for the umpteenth time that night.

"It's all right, Gilligan. I understand," he said, quietly. "Things are different now."

Gilligan lapsed into uncharacteristic silence and the Skipper fancied he could actually hear the machinations of the boy's mind as he struggled to think of something to say that wouldn't hurt the Skipper's feelings.

"I wish there was someone here for you," Gilligan said, finally. "We should have invited that lady aboard who turned up at the last minute."

The Skipper groaned in mock agony. "You mean that overweight chatterbox who wouldn't stop talking? No thanks, Gilligan, I'd rather stay single forever!"

Gilligan peered over the side of the hammock and even in the darkness, Skipper knew that the First Mate was staring at his ample belly.

"Okay, okay, she wasn't _that_ overweight," he grunted. "But she _was_ a chatterbox, and one chatterbox on the island is enough for anyone." He punctuated his sentence with a goodnatured poke in Gilligan's ribs, making the boy squeak.

"It's funny how things work out, huh, Skipper? You were always the one with a million girlfriends. I used to wonder what your secret was. I waited and waited to fall in love but it never happened, and I figured what was the point of asking a girl out if I just wasn't interested enough."

"You know, Gilligan, I'll make a confession. I know we used to rib you about that- we used to joke about whether you even liked women at all. But with hindsight anyone could see you were a better man than we were. You didn't love 'em and leave 'em the way we did, keeping scorecards and comparing notes, treating it all as a big joke. And now you've met the girl that's right for you, without having left a trail of broken hearts in your wake, while I lie here still wondering what love really is."

Gilligan was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, the Skipper could hear the shy smile cradling his words.

"It's just a nice feeling," he said, quietly.

The Skipper waited for more, but Gilligan had fallen silent again.

"That's it?" he barked, mock-sternly. "_'It's just a nice feeling'_?"

"Yep," replied Gilligan. "A nice feeling that makes you feel..."

"Don't tell me," Skipper said, wryly. "Nice."

"Yeah," Gilligan grinned. "Nice. Something wrong with nice?"

"No, Gilligan, there's nothing wrong with nice. It's very... nice. Nice, is what it is. Nice."

Gilligan giggled softly. "Yeah. Nice. Nice is nice. I like nice. I like it a lot."

"Nice," grunted the Skipper. "Love is nice. Trust you to put it so succinctly."

"So what?"

"Succinctly. It means... oh, never mind, Gilligan. It's late and I'm tired. Look it up in the Professor's dictionary in the morning."

Gilligan laughed again, a laugh full of warmth and affection. "There, you see, Skipper? You use all those big fancy words that no one understands, when everyone knows what the little words mean."

Skipper pulled his blanket up to his chin and gave a loud snort. "Go to sleep, Einstein," he muttered. "Just because you're in love now, doesn't mean you know it all."

"That's what she said," came the voice floating down from above, followed by a burst of childish giggles.

"_Gilligan_!"

"Sorry, Skipper."

"Go to sleep, Gilligan. That's an order. And don't talk to me again until morning!"

"Yes sir," laughed Gilligan, saluting at the ceiling.

oOoOo

The next morning dawned gray and gloomy. The castaways ate breakfast more hurriedly than usual, although not a single raindrop fell. By mid morning the Professor knew that it was going to be one of those unpredictable days where the clouds hung low and heavy, teasing the island with the prospect of a storm that may or may not come. The trees shivered nervously, the animals skittered from cover to cover, and the restless ocean waves became capped with galloping white horses, their churning hooves sending foam flecked spray across the rocks.

It was the perfect day for couples to retreat into the shelter of each others' arms. Even the Professor, who would normally be out checking his weather instruments, seemed happier to snuggle in the Supply Hut with his beloved Ginger. This led the Skipper to offer to check them himself, and even though the Professor assured him it wasn't necessary, Jonas Grumby found that he wanted to take a walk by himself, if only to escape all the canoodling going on around him. Ignoring the few mild protests directed at him from his loved-up friends, the Skipper slung a water pouch over his shoulder and left the clearing.

He walked deep into the jungle, lost in a myriad of thoughts. He recalled his Navy days, his youthful vitality, his belief that he could make the world a better place. He thought about young Gilligan, skinny young Gilligan in his slightly too large Navy uniform, sitting quietly in the corner of whichever bar they all happened to be in at the time. The girls would approach him the way they might approach a stray puppy sitting in the gutter. Cooing and laughing and wanting to pet his head. _Gilligan could have collected all the women he wanted, if only he'd know it,_ Skipper thought with wry amusement._ But then again, he wouldn't be the Gilligan we all know and love if he had!_

Lost in a burst of sudden love and affection for his clumsy, awkward, but wholly endearing little buddy, the Skipper didn't notice the rock that had suddenly appeared at his feet until he almost tripped over it. He took a few stumbling steps forward, like a comedy clown, and then looked back at the thing that had impeded his progress. He returned to the rock and picked it up. Behind him, the volcano loomed, watching him silently as he turned the rock over in his hand.

The gloomy, gray sky made everything gloomy and gray. Jonas Grumby peered at the rock in his hand and frowned. It was just a gray rock, he thought, irritably. Just a normal, gray rock on a normal gray day. He was just about ready to pitch it into the jungle and forget all about it when the clouds suddenly parted and a ray of golden sunshine streamed down from the exposed sky, right onto the spot where he was standing. Slowly but surely, a feeling of pure benevolence came over him and he felt his cynical old heart surge with joy. The rock began to pulse gently in his palm, small sparkles of colour emerging at its core, winking and twinkling like newborn stars in a distant galaxy. After a few hypnotic moments of 'warming up', the rock started throbbing with light and colour, transfixing the sea captain so completely that he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to- the rock was now glowing so beautifully with so many bright and shimmering colours that he felt as if it were the only thing in existence, the center of all knowledge, all feeling, all beauty, all joy, and all love.

Love.

That was the main feeling the Skipper was experiencing now. Love in its purest form. Love that asked for nothing in return, love that was endless, and endlessly renewable. The kind of love that the more of it you gave away, the more of it you had.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the rock for long enough to notice that the ray of sunlight seemed localized- it shone only upon him and the volcano, not half a mile in the distance. So close that he was almost in its foothills. Golden light dappled its sides, and in that stream of light flew birds and butterflies, seeking refuge from the dark.

"Well, I'll be..." the Skipper murmured, and he didn't even know why he'd said it. Something made him take off his hat and hold it against his chest. With his hat in one hand and the glowing rock in the other, Captain Jonas Grumby stared at the volcano and swore that he could feel it gazing back.

In the golden shaft of light that suffused the air between the Skipper and the volcano, a face seemed to emerge, flickering gently, like an old sepia film from the early days of cinematography. At first Skipper thought it was Ginger; there was the flare of red, the sparkle of green, the lightly freckled nose, the catlike, teasing glance that made the toes curl up inside his shoes. But then a name appeared, a name that he had long forgotten, but that seemed as familiar to him as the name of his own mother.

"Janice," he whispered. "Janice Kettle. Is that you?"

He had not seen Janice Kettle since he was nine years old. Janice Kettle, his best friend who was a girl, the freckle faced kid down the street who had moved away with her Air Force family, breaking his little boy's heart beyond repair. He had forgotten completely how much he'd cried at the time, how his mother had comforted him with his favourite ice cream sundaes at the local steakhouse, how he'd eaten and eaten to mend his broken heart. At _nine years old_. Maybe he'd forgotten it because it all seemed so ludicrous, but now here she was, grown up and glorious, looking down at him from the sky. He blinked nervously, hoping that nobody could see him being a deluded, hopelessly smitten old fool out here on his own in the middle of a windswept jungle.

"It's me, Jonas," she seemed to say, although it could easily have been the deceitful cry of the wind. "There's still a big world out here waiting for you."

The Skipper felt a burst of warmth from the rock inside his hand and reflexively he looked down. When he lifted his eyes again, the image of Janice was gone, and the sun had once more receded behind the clouds. All that was left was the looming volcano, standing in endless silence in the middle of the island. He put his hat back on and patted it into place on his head where it nestled into his graying blond curls. Then he put both hands around the rock, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it.

"'_There is no remedy for love, but to love more_'," he smiled. And he fancied that the rock agreed with him, its bright colours tumbling around like flower petals on a summer breeze.

Jonas Grumby decided he'd had enough of walking for today. Because he knew now that there was nothing to escape from, nothing to fear. Love was never meant to exclude; the love that his friends had found would come just as easily to him if only he'd let it. He pocketed his rock, and with a last, fond glance back at the volcano, he began to make his way back to camp. And as he strode forward, he pulled his head up, yanked his shoulders back, puffed out his chest, and began to sing- loudly and lustily and at the top of his salt filled lungs.

"Haul on the bowline, our bully ship's a rolling,  
><em>Haul on the bowline, the bowline, haul<strong>!<strong>_

Haul on the bowline, Janice is my darlin',  
><em>Haul on the bowline, the bowline, haul!"<em>

**The End**


End file.
